Unexpected Encounter
by LivinJgrl123
Summary: Aira Jameson was heading home after a long day at work, looking forward to a relaxing, peaceful evening. Her night doesn't go as planned when two thugs corner her in an alley, but what happens when the Red Hood saves her, and this unexpected encounter begins to interfere with her life - and turns it upside down?
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER! Disclaimer on the idea, too!**

**Midenigugtsu koyote requested that I write a story (several, actually, but I wanted to write this one because it seemed like the one that i could get a hang of, and let's face it, this is the RED HOOD!) It is her OC, her idea, and her world, NOT MINE. I'm just going to write it and try to do her character justice :)**

**Thank you for reading! OH! And PM ****Midenigugtsu koyote ** too and thank her for this AMAZING IDEA :D 

**Please review! and PM the lovely author who requested this and gave me the OC, idea, and the basic universe that she thought up in the already (owned) and existing DC UNIVERSE and thank her. becuz she is like a freakin' genius :) ! hahahaha.**

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"Mom, Mom, I'll be there, don't worry," Aira Jameson assured her mother, tucking her phone between her shoulder and cheek as she filled her bright red basket with strawberries, apples, and salad dressings, shrugging her long hair over her shoulder as she headed for the check-out line of the closest market to her apartment in one of the more well-kept sections of Gotham.

"Remember, don't come too early," her mother, Cassandra Jameson told her. In the background she could hear her mother yelling at someone, and then returned to the conversation she'd been having with her daughter. "We're getting visited by three food critics on Friday, remember?"

"Yes, Mom, I promise I won't be late," Aira muttered, snapping her cell phone shut without so much as a goodbye, stuffing it into her cluttered purse. Rolling her eyes at her mother's nagging, she got into line, shifting from one foot to the other. The hazel-eyed young woman was exhausted after a long day at work, and was really looking forward to relaxing for the rest of the evening. Maybe she would treat herself to a night sitting on the couch listening to quiet music while writing or drawing. The chances of that were looking pretty good, since her mother had more than enough people to run the restaurant.

After paying the very grumpy, elderly cashier who'd taken forever putting her food in bags, she grabbed the two and headed out the doors into the cold night that belonged to the city that was owned by crime. Shifting her purse higher up on her shoulder, she braced herself against the icy November wind, wishing that she could afford a car and drive herself everywhere, instead of having to walk or take the bus. Her long, dark brown hair, which stopped halfway down her back, was in a pony tail this early Tuesday evening. Her light brown skin sprouted goose bumps as another gust of wind threatened to stop her in her tracks as she turned a corner and crossed a street with the bustling crowds that were made up of Gotham's citizens and those who did not reside in this city.

As much as she loved her mother's restaurant, called the Aurora (short for Aurora Borealis), working as a waiter and a chef hadn't been her life dream. It had been her mother's. But it was a good job, and she got to spend time with her mother and she got to keep her lovely, yet small, apartment in a well-kept part of Gotham where you didn't have to worry about being butchered on your way home every single night, although you should always be careful, anywhere you are in Gotham.

Turning another corner, she saw the familiar street sign that told her she was halfway home and sped up, wanting to get home, alive, as fast as she could, so she could sit back and relax.

But something didn't feel right. Shivering, Aira looked behind her, an eyebrow rising in a quizzical manner when she noticed two men walking side by side toward her at a steady pace. Alarm bells rang though her head as she ducked through an alley. _You're being paranoid,_ she chided, but that didn't quell the uneasiness within her.

A rough hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her backwards, sending her flying to the ground, her groceries spilling out of their flimsy plastic bags as the two, gruff looking men loomed over her with sneers on their faces. Dread seemed to weigh her down, keeping her from sprinting away to safety.

"No—"

"Give us yer' m'ney and we won't hurt yuh' much," the shorter of the two said, grabbing the color of her thick, hoodless black coat and yanking her to her feet, slamming her into the wall of the alley while his accomplice began searching her pockets.

"HELP ME!" she screamed, but all she got was a slap.

"Shut up, you stupid bi—"

"LET GO OF ME!" she shouted, and received a punch to the gut.

So much for the relaxing evening.

She slumped to the ground, the wind knocked out of her as she tried to crawl away, and a kick was sent into her ribs, and she let out a scream of pain.

Was she going to die here, in this alley, at the hands of these two men?

"Now, is that any way to treat a lady?" The two men directed their attention to a shadow a few feet away. There was a gun shot, a flash of red, and Aira found herself falling, quaking with fear as the one of the men lay dead and the other cursing at his assailant, her savior.

"We-we weren't doin' no nothin'!" he shouted. "L-l-leave us a-alone!"

"Now, why would I do that?" the man, still in shadows, leaned over the thug.

"P-please—"

"Get out of here before I decide to blow your brains out." Not needing any more urging, the thug began to scramble away, but the shadowy man caught his arm, and Aira slapped a trembling hand over her mouth to cover a gasp when she heard a bone snap, and a scream rang out. "Apologize to the girl."

The thug spat in the twenty-one-year-old's direction, and she heard another crack, this one louder and harsher than the first, and the thug screeched in anguish.

"Apologize_, now._" The death threat in his voice told her that he was not kidding around, and he really did mean to kill the thug eventually if he did not coöperate.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the man screamed, and she saw him being shoved out into the street. She stared after him as he disappeared from her line of vision and returned her vision to her savior.

And now it was her turn to scream.

Or try to, at least.

Before the alarming noise could pass through her lips, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, and she found herself looking up into the narrowed eyes of the Red Hood. She cowered before him as he stayed still, his eyes trained on her until he was certain she would not scream.

He took a large step away from her, watching carefully, studying her, as she scrambled to collect her groceries, her hands still shaking.

"T-thank you," she said once she'd gathered all her things, still on the ground as she looked up at him. "I-I-thank you."

To her surprise, he helped her to her feet. He nodded.

Aira knew who this was. He known as many things: murderer, crime lord, but _savior_? Was that in the job description?

Saying nothing, he turned away and disappeared into the night, leaving her stunned for only a moment, before she ran the rest of the way home.

The Red Hood watched her as she left the alley, wondering what a girl like that was doing in a place like that. Obviously not looking for trouble, although it seemed as if trouble found her more often than it should.

Saving people wasn't on his schedule, but he did make an exception here and there.

And since trouble found her, and he was the basic definition, maybe he would see her again.

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**Let me know what you thought! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hiya! Here's the second chapter! Hope ya like. I wrote this with the help of its lovely creator, and of course i wrote this while listening to... Sum 41, Rise Against, Three Days Grace, and Linkin Park. Yikes. No wonder i have a headache lol, enjoy the chapter, will update as soon as my brain decides to! remember to PM its lovely creator and thank her for the idea!**

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Aira did find trouble that night, but it wasn't the Red Hood.

As soon as she reached her apartment building, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as she sprinted towards the cement stairs that would take her to the parking garage, which led her to the entrance to the adjoined buildings. But as soon as she passed the first cement pillar, a sense of dread filled her, and relief was short lived as soon as she heard a sickeningly familiar voice.

"Oh, Aira," came the sing-song voice that could only belong to a good-looking, twenty-two-year-old named Carter Clearwater. Aira halted in her tracks, a painful wave of anger and fear swelled within her as she slowly turned around, careful to keep her distance as the built, 5"10 man leaned against the pillar, his eyes roaming over her shamelessly.

How she wanted him to die right then and there.

"Leave me alone," she said, her voice holding more confidence than she really had. "I've told you before."

"Aw, baby, you _know_ I'm sorry," he cooed, pushing himself off the pillar and taking a large step towards her, his gray-green eyes twinkling with a malice only she and she alone knew about. She took a step backwards.

"Carter," she warned him, but with a wave of his hand her verbal warning was dismissed. "Leave me alone, I mean it."

"Aw," he gave her his best pouting face, the face he _always_ gave her when he said he was sorry. Just because he said he was sorry for what he'd done didn't mean that he really was. And Aira was doing her best the satisfaction of winning her over again, to let her fall into the role of the victim she'd been avoiding for well over six months. It had only been six, and he hadn't left her alone since she'd packed up and moved out of his place. She was still too scared to go back and retrieve the belongings she hadn't had the chance to collect once she'd made a run for it. "Can't you give me a break, sweetie?"

"Nicknames and smiles won't get you anywhere," she snarled.

"Oh, we'll see," he said, glancing around at the sound of a car approaching, disappearing into the shadows, "we'll see, Aira."

Shuddering, Aira fled and in moments found herself in her apartment, pressed up against the door, panting heavily. Dropping her bags to the floor, she went over to the phone and picked it up, her finger hovering over the **9**, but then sighed, hanging her head.

The police would never believe her.

Carter would lie to them as he had always lie to him, making her look like the bad person in all of this. Slamming it down, she shuffled her feet across the hardwood floor and picked up her groceries and headed to the kitchen and slowly began putting everything away.

When she was done, she went right over to her small, black leather couch and plopped herself down. Having no need for light, she left them off, and let her body get into its much needed lazy state. Seeing the TV remote on the floor beneath her, she picked it up and absent-mindedly tossed it across the room. In the far recesses of her mind she heard a book getting knocked over, but couldn't bring herself to care as she rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face into the cool leather, allowing her body to grow limp.

What a night.

First, those thugs tried to rob her, then, the Red Hood had to be the one to save her, and to top it all off, Carter had managed to talk to her before she could make it inside.

Groaning into the materia, she weakly punched the couch. Why did the Red hood have to be the one? It would have been lying if she'd said she wasn't thankful, but just the mere fact that he was a murdering crime lord scared her almost as much as Carter did.

Carter.

Oh, boy, this was getting worse and worse with each passing day.

Carter Clearwater, with his perfect sandy hair and his porcelain skin, was still trying to get back together with her. And she didn't want to be in a relationship with him, _again_. It had been too much to bear, and that was why she had left the first three times. The last time, her mother had found out about him, and had ordered her daughter to move out. Gladly, she obliged, but not before Carter could make some points clear first.

Shuddering at the memory of the physical pain that she hadn't felt in six months, she sat up slowly and took off her shoes, pulling her legs to her chest as she laid down on her side, her cheek pressed up against cool leather once again.

The phone rang from the entrance hall and Aira groaned. Getting up, she padded over to the device that was causing her headache and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Aira?"

"Oh, hey Mom." Aira hoped she wouldn't ask her to come in again. Cassandra _always_ asked her to help out at the Aurora, even when she didn't really need it.

"Are you alright, honey?"

"Fine."

"Did you run into Carter again?"

"No." The lie slipped out quickly: it was a reflex she had to work on, but it hadn't gone away. She still felt like she had to lie every time Carter came around, for fear of her health and what Carter would do to her if someone really did believe her.

"Well..." her tone was disbelieving, but she didn't push it. "I'll see you soon, okay hon?"

"Right." Aira slammed the phone down harder than intended and stomped back over to the couch. Hiding behind her hands, she wailed in frustration.

The ability that Carter had to control her life when he wasn't even supposed to be in it made her feel helpless and worthless, just as she had been when she had still dealt with the bruises, the pain, the long sleeves, and lies she'd put up with since high school. And now he wasn't even living in her house. All of this begging that he did, all of these apologies that she knew meant nothing to him, usually got her to come back to him, to get her to move in with him, but then bruises would return, and she would flee.

Her mother had made sure that the last time she had been with him would really be _the last time_.

No one could help her. Nothing could. And who would want to? Only whispers and lies awaited her down at the police station when she had tried explaining to them what he had been doing for her for the past few years, but of course they hadn't believed her, of course they hadn't cared.

Feeling defeated, she laid down, shutting her eyes tight.

Was there anyone who could help her?

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**Please leave a review!  
more of a filler chapter, in my opinion, but meh.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**YAY! THIS IS BEING UPDATED! Apologies to everyone. I want to thank you all for keeping with this story. Please review! And thank you for reading.**

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Jason stood outside the Aurora, trying to decide what he was going to do. He was sick and tired of eating crappy canned food, hiding away in one of his apartments, waiting for night to come so he could get on with his life.

Being a murderer-slash-antihero-slash-vigilante was bad enough when the only time you could come out and do what needed to be done was at night. And standing in front of his fancy, well-received restaurant as they day went on (as tired as he was), something occurred to him. Every murderer-slash-antihero-slash-vigilante deserved a meal, even if they were near sleep walking. And he wanted a good meal.

Jason walked in, and nearly smiled at the dim interior. It gave off the impression of a fancy-schmancy restaurant, private and quiet, with nice music playing from the speakers near the front window where he had been standing by.

After saving that girl last night - he didn't even know her name - and beating up those thugs, and attending to his usual crime-lord duties, he was ready for something yummy. Possibly soup.

He looked around for a moment before he saw a familiar face coming his way in a waitress' dress - black and white, short skirt, shot-sleeved, with a vest, with shiny black shoes - with her hair done up somewhat nicely, but a tremble in her hands that she kept clasped in front of her as she stopped in front of her, her eyes examining him for a moment before a smile broke across her lips.

Jason knew it to be a fake smile, but it had a hint if sincerity in it, one that made him smirk right back at her.

_This_ caught her off guard. And that was slightly amusing to see.

"Right this way, sir," she said, blinking, trying to recover from his smirk. After a moment of studying her as she had studied him, he knew exactly who she was. He'd saved he last night. And she didn't even know it. She looked alright, though, a little shaken. She should be fine, he thought as he followed her, weaving in between tables, getting no strange looks from any strangers - a relief.

She directed him to a small table, and he sat down, still smirking at her. Her brow furrowed for a second before smoothing out. But something was off about her. She seemed a bit off, nervous almost. He didn't miss it when her eyes darted away from her customer, all around the restaurant His vague amusement disappeared, and his smirk softened into a straight line. Something was definitely wrong.

His eyes fell to the silver name tag that was pinned to her black vest.

_Aira._

Well, at least he had a first name now.

"Would you like anything to drink, sir - and would you like some bread-sticks or chips for your wait?" she asked, her voice wobbling for a moment before returning to normal. Or, what he assumed what was normal for her.

"Just water, please, and some bread-sticks would be great" he said, picking up the menu and examining the cover.

"I'll be just a moment," she murmured, and she turned on her heel and left. As soon as he suspected he would not see her, his eyes left the menu and followed her into the swinging double doors that led into the kitchen.

He shook his head, and returned his attention to the menu. Who knew what could possibly have her on edge? This was Gotham. Everyone had a reason to be on edge. He told himself it didn't concern him: he'd saved her, she'd thanked him - end of story. And she didn't even know who she was serving.

A few moments later, the waitress, Aira, came back, and set down a glass and pitcher of water, along with a basket of steaming, seasoned, great-smelling bread sticks Oh, this was so worth losing sleep over.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked him, pulling a pad of paper out of her vest's breast pocket and whipped out a pen from behind her ear, and clicked it.

"Yeah, actually, I wanted..." he held up the menu and pointed to whatever the hell was at the bottom of the list. It was some sort of fancy sandwich and it sounded good, whatever it was.

"Oh! Of course!" A small, genuine smile appeared on her face, as she jotted it down, obviously not needing to look at it twice. "Good choice, sir - it's one of the best meals here!"

He allowed himself to smirk back at her - just a little - as she put away her pad and pen. "I'll get this to you as soon as I can!" she said, her present mood brightening as she turned left, in less of a hurry this time, but he didn't mind.

He was about to turn to the scrumptious-looking bread when he heard a woman's weary voice call out from near the front doors, "Aira! Visitor!"

Jason's eyes shot up and followed the woman named Aira - whose mood had changed drastically because of two spoken words (which was alarming) - slowly made her way over to the hostess (who had been oddly absent when he had arrived). The hostess looked older, sisterly towards the younger waitress. He could read the worry on the older woman's face and the fear on the younger one's.

His interest was peaked.

After exchanging a few words, Aira made her way to the front doors, meeting a guy that seemed about her age. He was handsome, tall, but he didn't seem all that strong. Jason watched as the guy smirked - in a mean way, not like how he had - down at the girl, and for some reason felt a swell of concern when she shrank away from him, and the hostess behind her stepped away from the couple she was attending to to step forward, sort of guarding the smaller one.

The guy who was speaking to Aira frowned at her, and then something menacing and vile flashed across his features for a brief moment before turning on his heel and exiting the restaurant.

Aira merely stared after him, mouth hanging open, and he figured that he was someone she knew very well. He was about to turn away from this odd scene that no one else seemed to see but the staff, who had all paused to look at her, but now were going back to their duties, when her hands flew over her mouth and she disappeared from sight.

Jason was perplexed as he turned to his bread.

What had that been about?


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there! Thanks for all the views, reviews, favorites, and follows! Makes me so happy! But this is all thanks to Midenigufutsu koyote! If it weren't for her idea and OC this story wouldn't have been written! Anyways, how about another chappie, hmm?**

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Aira was in what her mother had dubbed "the staff room". It was filled with extra dining-room chairs and tables that were either stacked upon one another carefully or were precariously sitting in a tower that screamed unsteadiness. When one entered the kitchen, which was straight ahead, there was a narrow, short hall to the left, with a creaky, wooden door that didn't match the rest of the Aurora's polished-slash-old-fashioned-slash-modern-slash-something-else decor. It had been - or rather, _still was_ - a storage room, but it was more like a break room for employees who didn't go outside in the alley and smoke. Although layers of dust covered the extra furniture, cobwebs hung lifelessly - spiders having long abandoned them, apparently - from the high ceiling, more so from the support beams than the corners.

The kitchen was bright, alive, and filled with people who were shouting, laughing, joking, talking, and humming while they did their part to make the Aurora as successful (both with the media and its customers) as it was, and compared to this dark, dusty, silent room, it was would appear to be abandoned. But after long shifts of taking orders (specific or not), carrying platters of food, dishes, and drinks - and also having to deal with every kind of customer imaginable - employees would take back food from the kitchen (the leftovers that weren't being used) and find some place to settle down for their break, until they had to go out and slap on a smile.

Aira was sitting on a table, her legs dangling idly above the creaking wooden floor, her head in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees, trying to calm herself down. Her eyes were clenched shut, her teeth were grinding together, and her heartbeat was loud in her ears. Her stomach had twisted itself in knots in result of the feelings she was experiencing. It made her angry - at him, at herself, for being this emotional.

What Carter had done, what he was doing - it was so **_unfair_**.

Work was probably one of the only places she would ever really love being at. For the most part, the customers were decent human beings towards her and her mother was here and she got along with her coworkers better than she would have thought (they all got along with each other, save for a select few), and she _liked _helping out in the kitchen.

But Carter had to show up, didn't he?**  
**

Aira sighed, pushing aside the childish urge to scream at the world for everything bad that had ever happened to anyone. She would never do that, even if she was alone, **hiding** in the staff room.

It was kind of embarrassing, to be so scared of him. He couldn't do anything to her here, of all places.

Right? He wouldn't try anything in public - where her mother was, right? _Right?_

He'd said he was sorry, he had - and she was having trouble forcing herself _not_ to forgive him - and she'd said nothing to him (how could she, with that hostess Jeanine standing next to her?), and he'd _smirked_ at the fact that she could do only that: _nothing_.

Now here she was, wallowing in self pity at the fact that life wasn't easy. Well, there was only one way to make it easy, but telling the cops would mean hell for her - and besides, who'd believe her?

Aira sighed again, clearing her throat several times to make sure her voice wouldn't break if she went stepped out of the staff room.

It wasn't even her break; she needed to get out there and attend to the customers -

Aira shot off the table and headed for the door, remembering she still had to deliver that one man's food. And she didn't want to trouble anyone else, or get in trouble. Her troubles could wait. It wasn't like she could do anything about everything - right? Besides, someone else might be covering for her, she might be taking up someone else's breaks, she might get into trouble -

Her worries were silenced for a split second when the door opened just as her shaky hands were about to grasp it. The force of the sudden movement sent her stumbling backwards, and she almost fell in a heap on the floor, but managed to keep her feet firmly planted on the ground. Straightening up, she found herself looking up at the older, taller, red-haired hostess Jeanine. Aira immediately grew nervous.

"I was just on my way out - " she started, but the more angular woman cut her off with her words and a wave of her hand, her painted nails flashing in the dim light.

"Relax, Aira - you're fine," she sighed, and it took the younger woman a moment to realize that Jeanine, someone who had known her longer than she'd known her own mother, was looking down at her with concern. It was nice, but it wouldn't last. No one could help - Aira had to tell herself that more and more these days. Couldn't they see? No, she remembered, they couldn't - because they didn't.

Ugh.

"Aira, I know it's none of my business," Jeanine said slowly, just as the twenty-one-year-old made an attempt to get past her, stopping her in her tracks with narrowed, hawk-like eyes. "...but who was that young man?"

"He's my... er..." Aira faltered. How should she put it? Boyfriend? Abuser? Ex? He absolutely **hated** it when she referred to him as her ex - it drove him insane. The few times she'd broken up with him and told him he was her 'ex', she'd ended up regretting it for _weeks_. And whenever he wasn't around and she used that term - he seemed to know. He'd give her looks, hang around, give her enough apologies and smiles till she gave in and got back together with him.

Jeanine continued to watch the smaller woman, patiently. With a sigh of defeat, she finally answered - but she wished with all her heart that her answer would contain the _truth_.

"It's nothing; don't worry about it."

Aira managed to slip away, the door shutting noisily behind her, thankfully getting away - but she had missed the look of suspicion that had crossed the older woman's features.

Aira headed into the kitchen, her mood somehow improving as several people - people who spent about 99% of their shifts standing in the same room with the same people - waved and grinned at her, a few called out their greetings while they did their part around the huge kitchen. Her mother was nowhere in sight - her mother rarely ever got into the kitchen anymore, being the owner and all sort of distracted her from what she loved to do most, but when she did, it just made the atmosphere all the more lighter - which was a relief. She would _know_ there was something up with Aira or not - and she didn't need Cassandra noticing anything today.

Sweeping up a tray from a pile on the counter next to bowls, glasses, plates, and dainty little dishes, she looked around until she saw one of the chefs - Celia, if she remembered correctly - waved at her, a huge grin plastered on her face.

Aira walked over to her, tray ready, and tried to smile genuinely at the frizzy-haired girl, whose hair was pushed back and tied several times in order not to get hair in the food (not that it ever happened). Celia had just started working at the Aurora, but she was one of the best chefs in the area. She was also one of the nicest of the best chefs in the area. It was like she made a genuine effort to smile and wave and say hello to everyone - her bubbling personality made the other girl able to push her distracting, hopeless thoughts to the back of her mind, where she hoped they would stay till she was safe at home on the couch.

"Hey, Aira," she chirped, and set a bowl of _whatever the hell it was called_ onto the tray in a carefree manner that would have made any other waitress or waiter snap at her for being so careless with the food. Aira, however, was used to collecting her meals from this girl - who seemed to connect with everyone she spoke to - and it was nice. "How's it going?"

"Good," she replied, a little uneasily, which didn't go unnoticed by the other girl as she set a small pitcher of water on it.

"You sure?" she asked as Aira double-checked that she had everything that man had asked for.

"Um, yeah - don't worry about it," she said too quickly. Before the brilliant chef could ask anything else, however, Aira turned and walked as quickly and carefully as she could out the swinging doors, heading towards her customer while a distinct feeling of dread settled itself on her shoulders.

This was going to be a difficult shift.

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